Foreshadow I: Grief, Despair and Hope
by Alexannah
Summary: EPILOGUE UP! COMPLETE! Spike has to face his past when he and Buffy are sent back to his first night as a vampire; meanwhile, the rest of the gang try to find a way to save a human being controlled by the Hellmouth he tried to close. SpikeBuffy
1. Prologue: The Mouth of Hell

**Summary:** Spike is forced to relive the death of his mother in order to prepare him for facing a powerful evil that is linked to his past.

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** Future slash (see AN)

**Canon/Spoilers:** Set vaguely around series six: Buffy works at the DMP but has not started a relationship with Spike yet; Xander and Anya are still planning their wedding; the Trio have been identified. No major S7 spoilers except for the episode "_Lies My Parents Told Me_" as it uses the backstory revealed there.  
Also, the series will occasionally cross over with AtS, whose timeline I've been even more flexible with. More details nearer the time.

**Author's notes:** I've got two other Buffy fics going, another Spuffy and a Giles-Buffy bonding fic, as well as a load of Harry Potter fics. Please check them out too.  
Another IMPORTANT note: although this fic won't contain slash (very little romance at all, actually), the series will later include Xander/Andrew. You can't say I didn't warn you. Anyone who gets that far and then complains will get a very very annoyed response.  
I know the prologue's short. But it's quality that matters, right?  
Thanks a lot to my beta, dawnofme.

-----

**Foreshadow I: Grief, Despair and Hope**

by Alexannah

**Prologue: The Mouth of Hell**

_London, 1867_

The crowds were pressing in on all sides, everyone rushing away from the scene. He was hurrying as fast as he could towards it.

"Out of my way. Excuse me, please. Move!" he snapped at the crowd.

The ground had opened up. A huge pit lay where the buildings lining the road had once stood. Blue lightning was crackling around the scene, and the sheer power of it stopped him in his tracks. But only for a second.

Creatures from the other side, monstrous creatures, that no human had ever laid eyes on would start crossing to their world any second. He had to hurry.

He was only an amateur, really. He knew deep down that he had no hope of closing the Hellmouth. But he had to try. For his family's future.

He ventured as near as he dared and began to chant.

**TBC …**


	2. Seeing Things

****

Chapter One: Seeing Things

_Sunnydale, 2002_

It was late when Angel's car drew up outside an old friend's home. He switched off the engine and sat there for a moment, thinking.

This would be difficult, but the Seers had been clear about one thing: A vampire and the Slayer had to face what was coming together. Obviously, it was him. What other vampire would fight on the side of good?

As much as he was looking forward to seeing Buffy again, he knew it would be awkward for both of them. But sitting there in the dark would not defeat the enemy, and it was with a sigh that he climbed out of the car and walked to Giles' front door.

He had barely finished knocking when the door was pulled open, revealing a harassed-looking Giles. "Angel! I'm glad you're here; come in."

The gang were crowded in Giles' living room. Angel looked around at all of them, those he recognised and those he didn't, and realised something. "Where's Buffy?"

"We were hoping you could tell us, actually," Willow said.

"Why, what happened?"

"What happened is a portal just swallowed her up before you came in," Xander snapped. "No warning, it just appeared."

"A _portal?_"

* * *

Buffy landed heavily on wet grass. For a moment, she just lay there, her head spinning. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw it was night. Sitting up, she recognised her surroundings to be a cemetery – but not one she knew.

"Ow," she muttered. "Where on earth?"

Something was not right. Glancing around, Buffy could barely see a thing. The bright lights of the town were nowhere. The only light was from the moon.

Where was Spike? He had been sucked into the portal, or whatever it was, too. Buffy hesitantly called out his name a couple of times, before her eyes fell on a tombstone next to where she had fallen.

_William Pratt_, it read, _1854 – 1880_. Buffy frowned. That couldn't be right – the grave was fresh. Before she had time to connect this piece of information to a possible reason, she jumped a mile as a bloody, earthy hand burst through the mound of earth, grabbing desperately at air. It grasped a tree root and was followed by an arm. Buffy checked her pockets to find herself stake-free. There was a suitable loose branch on the nearest tree. She tried to break it off, but her hands went straight through it.

"What the hell?"

Turning back, she saw the vampire hoist himself out of his grave and collapse on his knees, coughing up soil. Before she had time to think what to do, it spoke.

"_Bloody _-" cough "_sodding_ -" cough "_hell_."

Buffy's mouth fell open. "_Spike?_"

Spike spat out a mouthful of earth and looked up. It was definitely him, but not as Buffy had ever seen him before. Besides being covered in dirt and wearing the sort of clothes Buffy thought he wouldn't normally be caught dead in, his hair was brown, not to mention a mess.

"Buffy! Did you land back in the ground too?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. Spike, your hands …"

He clenched them. "I'll be alright." He paused. "That was not an experience I wished to repeat. Where the hell are we?"

"The past, I think. Look." Buffy pointed behind him at the gravestone. "That yours?"

Spike turned to see what she was pointing at, and nodded. "Yeah."

"Your last name's Pratt?"

He glared at her. "_Was_ Pratt. I gave up every part of my human life when I was changed." He paused. "Most of it voluntarily." He paused again. "Wait. We've gone back in time?"

"Looks like it. Weird though; I can't touch anything. Look." She reached out and tried to poke him, but her hand slid straight through again. "See?"

"Must be because you don't exist," he murmured. "That means I'm in my past body."

Buffy looked up at his hair. "I'd have to agree with that. You know, this is the first time I've ever seen your hair in its natural colour." Spike frowned and raised his hands to cover it, and she laughed. "Don't, I like it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it suits you. Probably looks better combed though. And less muddy." She reached out to brush a hanging clod of earth, and then remembered that she couldn't.

"Well, once you've finished laughing at me …" Spike stood up and looked around, brushing soil off his clothes. "How do we get back?"

Buffy swallowed. "I'm not sure. The porthole's gone. How did it appear in the first place?"

"Search me. Not my area of expertise."

"You don't know of any demon that could have done this?"

"Not off the top of my head. This looks more like spell work. I expect some mojo of Red's has backfired again."

"Great. Well, if it was Willow, the others should be working on a way to get us back. What do you say to making the most of this opportunity and having a look around?"

Spike shrugged. "Lived this once, thank you. You can explore by all means."

* * *

"Angel, please, tell us everything you know."

"OK." Angel looked round at them all. "I told you on the phone, Giles, there's this Seer coven I've had a bit of contact with recently. One of them had a vision about the Slayer, a vampire, and a really powerful guy on his way to Sunnydale. They said they'd cast a spell to 'prepare' us – I mean, them – whatever that means … I guess that's what happened to Buffy."

"And Spike," Willow added.

"What?"

"Oh, didn't we – Spike went through the portal too."

"What was _Spike_ doing here?" Angel said angrily.

Dawn spoke up. "He's been part of the gang for ages." Noticing the look on Angel's face, she added quickly, "He can't hurt anyone any more. Not humans, anyway."

"I don't believe this." Angel had been so sure _he_ was the vampire in the Seer's vision. _Damn you, Spike!_

"Where exactly are we?" Buffy asked, starting to make her way towards the cemetery gate, Spike following rather reluctantly.

"London. My old home's about half a mile's walk …" Spike trailed off. "Drusilla will be waiting."

"What?"

"When I came back the first time, I went to find her and took her back to my house. She liked it there." A strange look appeared in his eyes. "We made plans …"

"Spike?" He had stopped walking.

"I'm not sure I want to go. Can't we just stay here?"

"Well …" Buffy hesitated. "We don't want to change history, do we? You ought to do what you did the first time around."

He swallowed. "I don' really remember it. It's sort of … fuzzy."

"Fuzzy?"

He nodded slowly. "Funny. I can usually remember things … I can remember meeting with Dru, going home … Then the next day or so's a bit of a blank."

"Did you get drunk?"

"A little." Spike suddenly gasped as he was hit with déjà vu.

"Spike?"

_"Are you drunk?"_ a voice echoed in his head, followed by his own in reply.

"A little."

"I remember," he said slowly. "My mum …"

"Your mom? What about your mom?"

"Shush!" Spike strained his memory hard, and more came to him.

_"It's all right, Mother … you won't have to worry about anything ever again … it's only me."_

* * *

"So, what about this new Big Bad?" Willow asked once Angel had sat down. "Any details on him?"

"A fair bit, actually." Angel paused. "It's a difficult situation. He was an amateur sorcerer back in the nineteenth century – no real power of his own – and he, rather heroically (or stupidly, take your pick) tried to close the English Hellmouth after it opened."

"I didn't know there was a Hellmouth in England," Giles said curiously.

"Not any more," Angel said. "Instead of closing it, he accidentally absorbed its power. The portal itself no longer exists."

"Whoa. I didn't know that was even possible," Xander murmured.

"Nor did I," Giles said seriously. "But I'm guessing that a Hellmouth – or the energy equivalent - inside someone could do a great deal of damage."

Angel nodded. "When he absorbed the Hellmouth, he got kinda trapped underground – the Seers said he was dormant. Like being cryogenically frozen. But now he's awake, and the power inside him is completely controlling him – it's too much for one human being to handle."

"What's he want in Sunnydale?" Tara said nervously.

"The Seers don't know, but they guess he's after this Hellmouth too. But he could have come to Sunnydale for any reason. Who knows?" Angel paused. "The point is, he has the power of an entire Hellmouth at his fingertips and he's not shy about using it. And Sunnydale is currently short a Slayer."

Giles opened his mouth, but Willow spoke first. "What difference would Buffy being here make? This guy's a _human being_; we should be tackling this in a magical way, not a stakey way."

"You mean a spell to remove the Hellmouth from him?" Xander frowned. "Do you think that's possible? I'm not thrilled about the thought of going up against this guy either …" He trailed off.

"If the Hellmouth is removed, it would have to find a new home, and one Hellmouth is enough trouble for this town," Giles said firmly. "As much as I am loathe to admit it, it may be a question of him or the rest of us." He let that statement sink in before continuing in a quieter voice, "I think Dawn ought to leave town."

Dawn's eyes widened, and she glared at him. "I'm not going anywhere! I want to help!"

"If Buffy was here, she would want to know that you are safe," Giles said gently, "and even with both her and Spike you'd be a lot safer elsewhere."

Xander spoke up again. "I'll take her. I contribute the least." Anya started to deny it, but he continued, "Yes I do. It's okay."

"I'll go with you," Angel said. "I want to go back to the coven and see if they have anything new; I can drop you both off somewhere."

Dawn sighed. "Fine."

"You should probably leave as soon as possible. Like, now," Tara said. "Who knows when this guy will attack."

"I'll help you pack some things, Dawnie," Willow said softly, standing.

* * *

"Oh, no! No, no, no."

Spike sank slowly to his knees, and Buffy looked on in alarm.

"No. Can't go … don't want … can't do it …"

"Spike?" she asked hesitantly. He was staring into space, rocking back and forth slightly, a pained expression on his face. He didn't respond, and Buffy bit her lip. She had never seen him like this before, and it unnerved her.

"C'mon, Spike, you can talk to me. What happened?" she said gently, kneeling down in front of him.

He met her eyes. "I killed her," he whispered hoarsely.

"Your mom?"

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. Buffy saw a stray tear run down his face and pretended not to have noticed it.

"It's all coming back." Spike swallowed. "I remember everything." He was shaking now. "I … I've got to see her." He suddenly stood, startling her, and without waiting ran for the cemetery gate.

"Spike!" Buffy ran after him. "Slow down!"

She had a bad feeling that history was going to be changed.

**TBC …**


	3. Tugging Heartstrings

**Author's notes:** Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! And, cheers to Dawn for beta'ing and being so patient about my ellipsis and speech-tag-adverb addictions.

**Chapter Two: Tugging Heartstrings**

A local news channel droned on in the background in the otherwise quiet Magic Box. Anya kept one eye on the coverage of a five-car pile-up a few miles out of town, while helping Willow and Tara pour over books. Going to and fro, Giles sorted out more books, choosing only relevant ones to place on the table for them.

"Any luck?" Anya asked at last, breaking the silence.

Willow just groaned and rested her head on the table. Tara gave her a sympathetic look.

"Giles _did_ say it couldn't be done, Will."

"I said it _probably_ couldn't be done," Giles corrected.

Anya tore her eyes away from the television. "I thought Willow was researching a way to kill Mr. Hellmouth? Without us dying in the process, I mean."

"We can't – _I_ can't – let that happen without trying other options first, Anya." Willow sighed, before drawing in her breath sharply as she saw something. "Hold on – Yes! There's a spell here that might work." Running a finger over the text, a small smile formed on her lips. "Power transference."

Giles looked over her shoulder at the book. "That would be nowhere near powerful enough to transfer the Hellmouth energy, Willow. And read the fine print: there has to be a link to the castee." He squinted. "And the cast_or_ takes the power into themselves."

"Oh." Willow's heart sunk.

"Still, it was a nice try," Tara tried encouragingly.

Giles placed a pile of books on the table. "I'm going to go back home and wait for Buffy and Spike; they should return back there."

"And then there were three," Anya muttered as he left the shop.

Willow looked glum. "How's the Hellmouth research coming?" she asked Tara.

"Not so great either," Tara replied, closing the book she had been reading and placing it on a pile before taking a new one off the top of the ones Giles had left. "There are a couple of references to there having been one in England, but no details."

"What details do we want, exactly?"

"Not sure; anything right now would be useful."

There was a collective sigh. Anya turned up the television.

"Mr. Hellmouth doesn't have far left to come, judging by this."

Willow and Tara looked at the news broadcast. There were pictures of a town a few miles away from Sunnydale. The high street looked like a war scene. A quick clip of footage showed a dark figure surrounded by what looked like blue lightning. All three girls shivered.

"Guess that's him," Willow said quietly.

Silence fell again. Anya continued reading, her eyes occasionally flickering up towards the television, and Tara and Willow went back to their books. Willow could feel an unspoken dread pressing down upon them, and scanned the musty pages in desperation for help.

"I've found it!" Tara suddenly announced.

"The Hellmouth?" _Finally, progress_, Willow thought.

"Yes," she answered. "Here, it references a Hellmouth in London that was filled in after it opened in 1867. Talks about the guy who tried to close it. Definitely nothing special about him; Just a guy who'd played around with magics and tried to be a hero. Poor man. He left behind a wife and child. They'll be long dead now."

"He was an innocent," Willow murmured. "More than that, he _was_ a hero. He didn't manage to close the Hellmouth, but he still tried, despite the odds. He must have known he would never succeed."

"So, what do we do?" Anya asked.

Willow didn't answer, but took the book from Tara's hands and read the entry for herself. It wasn't too detailed, but it did mention one small, hardly significant fact that nonetheless tugged her heartstrings.

"Kind of makes it more personal, knowing his name," she said, more to herself than the others.

"What's his--" Anya began, but stopped. "Hey, I got lucky too!"

The other two looked up at her. "What?" Willow asked.

"I've been looking up portal types, to try and ID the one Buffy and Spike got sucked in to," was Anya's triumphant reply. "It's a portal in time."

"You mean … they're in the past?" Tara voiced what they were all thinking.

"Past, future, who knows?"

"That can't be good," Willow said, the feeling of dread back. "Why do you think the Seers sent them _there?_"

-----

"This is – was – your house?" Buffy asked quietly and when Spike nodded without speaking, added, "It's … nice."

"Thanks," he murmured, his mind elsewhere. Shakily he reached for the doorknob. "Maybe you should stay out here."

"If you don't want me to see--"

"I just mean, you're not exactly dressed appropriately to the century."

Buffy looked down at her halter top and jeans. "Good point." She paused. "It's cold out here, though."

Spike sighed, shrugged off his muddy coat and attempted to put it round her shoulders. Buffy merely looked at him as it fell straight onto the ground.

"All right, come in then."

"Thank you, Mr. Pratt."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not a chance," Buffy said as Spike pulled the door closed behind them. "Whoa."

For a moment she simply stood staring around her. The hallway was large, ornately furnished, and filled with the scent of flowers, from the bouquets lined on top of a bookcase. On the wall was a large portrait in a gold frame. The man pictured looked, Buffy thought, a little like Spike.

"That's my father," Spike said, as he noticed where she was looking. He swallowed. "And my mother should be here somewhere."

"What are you going to do?" Buffy asked, softer.

"I don' know," he whispered. "I just need to see her."

Spike led Buffy into what she supposed was the living room. "I reckon she'll be asleep; maybe I should go and wake her … Or maybe she'll come down like she did last time. I don' know."

"Why don't we just wait a while and see?" Buffy suggested.

He shook his head. "I can' wait, Buffy. I need to see her _now_."

"Then maybe you should …" Buffy trailed off, staring behind him.

"Should what?"

"W-William?"

Spike whirled around. Standing shakily in the living-room doorway was a woman who looked in her fifties; she was dressed in old-fashioned nightclothes and staring at Spike as if she had seen a ghost.

"Mother," he breathed.

Spike remained frozen, but his mother drew nearer as if trying to see him better. "William? Is that you?"

He shakily nodded. "It's me, Mother."

She let out a cry, and Spike unfroze as she pulled him into a hug, clutching her close. "Wh-where have you been? I-I've been beside myself for days – They t-told me you were d-dead!"

Mrs. Pratt still hadn't seen Buffy, who thought she ought to give them some privacy, but couldn't tear herself away from the touching scene.

"It's all right, Mother," Spike murmured. Buffy saw him squeeze his eyes shut against tears and found swallowing difficult herself. "Everything's going to be alright." His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

"What happened to you?" She drew back, but continued hanging onto Spike's arms as if, when she let go, he would disappear again. "Why are you covered in dirt?"

Spike met his mother's eyes. "You're tired," he said in a gentle voice. "Why don't you go back to bed, and I'll bring your pills up; and then tomorrow I will tell you everything."

"All right," she said hesitantly. Her eyes flickered round the room, and Buffy waited, but they went straight through her. "William, who were you talking to a minute ago?"

"I was talking to -" Spike began, before realising what Buffy had just worked out; that Mrs. Pratt couldn't see her. "No one. Just myself." He smiled slightly. "You know me."

She gave a small laugh. "You _definitely_ need a woman around if you're going to start holding conversations with yourself."

"Let's not start that again," Spike said. "Right now, you're the only woman I need." He kissed her gently and started guiding her out of the room. "Let's get you to bed, Mother."

"I am not so old yet that I cannot manage the stairs without assistance, William."

Buffy chuckled to herself.

A few minutes later, Spike came back down the stairs, very slowly and his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"You okay?" Buffy asked.

He just gazed at her.

"Right, of course you're not." She sighed. "So, what now?"

Spike didn't answer, but sank onto the floor, his eyes unfocused. Buffy sat down beside him. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

At first she thought he was going to remain silent. Finally, he spoke. "I've always loved her. Always."

"You said you killed her," Buffy pointed out, slightly confused.

"I killed her _because_ I loved her."

"Huh?"

"She's sick," Spike explained. "She'll be dead in a few months. I tried to make her better … I turned her into a vampire."

"_Ah_."

"Stupidest thing I ever did. Oh, it cured the sickness, but she changed. Too much. She turned on me … said … stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"How sick she was of me and how I could never be anything … and worse. Stuff I wouldn't care to repeat."

"Spike, you know that wasn't your mother talking, don't you?" He remained silent. "It was the demon you sired that said all those things. Your mother loves you; I can see it from here."

"You think?" he whispered.

"Didn't you hear? The Slayer's always right. So, what happened then?"

"There was a struggle. I won." Spike paused, and continued in a bitter tone, "I killed my own mother – _twice_."

"It wasn't your fault, Spike," Buffy said. "Like you said, you were just trying to help her."

"Doesn't make it any easier. And I can' let it happen again." With a faraway look, he shook his head. "I don' know what to do. I can't go through that again, can't let her die like that." Another tear escaped. "But I can' let her die slowly and alone either. I don' know what to do, Buffy. Help me," he whispered.

An uncomfortable knot formed in Buffy's stomach.

"Whatever happens tonight," she said after a long pause, "your mom's going to die. Neither of us can change that. Even if we stayed here until after you – after your mom died - I'm guessing once we return to the future, your old self will just … well, it will happen anyway." She paused again. "But, you've been put in a position where you can change that – change how she died. A second chance, maybe." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "To end her pain as humanely as possible - stop yourself from making that mistake in the first place."

Spike swallowed. "You mean -- I've got to kill her all over again," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Think of it this way," Buffy said, gentler still. "This time, she can die happy and painlessly, and you can say goodbye."

He put his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. Buffy tried to put a hand on his arm, to comfort him, but it went straight through.

"I don' think I can do this," he whispered.

"I know it's not fair," Buffy murmured. "But it's the best choice on offer."

**TBC …**


	4. Setting Wrongs Right

**Chapter Three: Setting Wrongs Right**

Willow replaced the Magic Box phone. "That was Xander," she told the room. "He and Dawn are staying at Angel's. A friend of his is putting up some anti-violence spell, which should keep her safe."

"Did you tell him what we found out?" Anya asked.

Willow shook her head. "Why worry them? We can handle this. I hope."

* * *

The sound of Spike filling a glass with water penetrated the silence. Buffy gazed at him, wishing could find the right words to help him face what he had to do. The conflict and fear in his eyes cut straight to her heart.

"What's the water for?" she finally asked, just to break the silence.

"These." Spike retrieved a bottle of pills from a cupboard, tipped a couple into his hand and dropped them into the water. The liquid fizzed as the pills dissolved.

"Sleeping pills?"

He nodded and replaced the bottle carefully before picking up the glass and slowly turning to the door. Buffy followed him, until he stopped outside what was presumably his mother's bedroom.

"Do you want me to stay out here?" Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head. "No. I won' be able to do it without you there," he replied.

"Alright."

Spike braced himself and knocked hesitantly on his mother's door. "Mother?"

"Come in, dear."

In the dim room, Mrs. Pratt sat up in her bed, tucked into her covers already. Spike swallowed and the hand holding the glass trembled. Buffy nodded encouragingly at him.

"I have your sleeping pills," he said.

"William, are you well?" his mother asked anxiously as he sat down beside her and gave her the glass. "You look rather pale. Oh, and your hands are cold!"

"Sorry. I am well, really."

"Are you going to tell me where you were?"

Spike hesitated. "I'll … tell you when you wake up." His voice shook slightly.

She smiled at him. "As long as you don't go running off again for days on end. An old woman's heart can only take so much."

He smiled sadly back. "I love you, Mother."

"I love you too."

Buffy wiped away her own tears and Spike struggled to contain his own as his mother drank the concoction. When she lay down, he kissed her goodnight and started singing softly.

"_Early one morning, just as the sun is rising,  
I heard a young maid sing in the valley below,  
Oh, don't deceive me,  
Oh, never leave me,  
How could you use a poor maiden so …_"

After another couple of verses, he stopped. "Mother? … Mum?"

"I think she's asleep, Spike," Buffy whispered.

Spike closed his eyes. He clenched and unclenched his hands. His shoulders quivered.

"I can't do this," he whispered.

"Yes, you can," Buffy said gently. "I'm here, and you can do this. I know you can."

Spike braced himself, reached out shaking hands and gently took hold of his mother's head. He stroked her cheek softly with his thumb, and whispered, "Goodbye, Mother."

Buffy looked away, but the crack of Mrs. Pratt's neck breaking made her wince. Turning back, she saw Spike still in the same position, his mother limp in his hands.

"I killed her," he whispered hoarsely.

Buffy wished she was solid so she could put her arms round him. "She looks like she's at peace now, Spike."

He closed his eyes, tears started to stream down his cheeks and his whole body was shaking like mad.

The room suddenly glowed, and Buffy looked up from the scene just as the portal reappeared and sucked them both inside.

* * *

Giles had just put the kettle on to boil for his third cup of tea when a burst of light made him start and whirl round. The portal had reappeared. Before he could react further, two figures tumbled out onto the floor. The light faded and the portal disappeared.

"Buffy?" he started, moving forwards, but stopped dead.

Spike hadn't moved from where he had fallen, just lay shaking, and Buffy rushed over to him. As Spike let out what sounded suspiciously like a sob, she put her arms around him tightly, and Giles, sensing the need for privacy, started backing away slowly. Before he exited the room, he was privy to a rare sight: Spike, completely breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably. And even rarer, Buffy holding him, gently rubbing his back and murmuring words of comfort.

Giles retreated to his bedroom, picked up the telephone and dialled the Magic Box's number. Willow answered.

"Hey, Giles."

"Any luck yet?" he asked.

"Not enough. Just little bits and pieces that may or may not be useful – probably the latter. Any sign of Buffy and Spike yet?"

"They've just come back," Giles told her.

"They're back? Well, that's the best bit of news we've had all evening! Where did they go?"

"I haven't had an opportunity to ask." Giles paused. "I'll let you know when they're ready, all right? I think, whatever happened to them, it was rather … traumatic."

"What makes you say that?" Willow asked.

"Just a hunch."

* * *

"Thanks."

Buffy raised her head to look at Spike. The two of them had been completely silent for twenty minutes, since he had started to calm down, and had just been half-lying, half-sitting on the floor, his head on her shoulder and her arm around his.

"For?"

"Jus' … being there." He swallowed. "Means a lot."

She smiled slightly. "You're welcome." There was a pause. "Do you want to talk?"

For a moment, she thought Spike wasn't going to answer.

"Think I jus' want to go home."

"I'll walk you there, if you like. Or you can tell me to sod off, if you'd prefer to be alone."

He gave a weak smile. "I'd rather have some company – if you don't mind."

Buffy held out a hand and helped him to his feet. Giles chose that moment to re-enter the room.

"Are you two …" he trailed off, obviously unsure how to finish the sentence.

"I'm taking Spike home, Giles." Buffy opened the door. "I'll see you later."

"Buffy – we need to talk -"

"_Later_, Giles."

He stood still and watched them go. Buffy linked her arm with Spike's and they began to walk towards the cemetery. At first, they kept a comfortable silence, but after a while Spike spoke.

"When I was young, my family was really poor," he began. "My father worked in a factory of some kind, and in those days you had to pay to go to school, so I stayed at home with my mum. My dad had this talent, though; when he and my mum married, he made their rings himself. He used scrap materials from the factory and the results were as good as professional jewellers'. Eventually he realised he could sell them and set up a business, which really took off." Spike paused. "Within two years we could afford to live in the house you saw."

"Wow. That must have been some talent he had."

He nodded. "I used to help my mum around the house, even after his success. My parents never bothered to hire proper servants." He smiled. "I was probably best in the kitchen and garden. My mum only gave me jobs that didn't involve breakables. I was pretty clumsy as a child."

Buffy laughed a little. "Sounds like you two were close."

"Yeah." There was a long pause. When Spike spoke again, it was in a quieter voice. "We were close, especially after my dad died. I loved her more than anything; she was the most important person in my life." He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed to try and stop more tears. Buffy just stood silently, waiting, and gave him a small smile when he had wiped and opened his eyes.

"Thanks," he said thickly.

"Don't mention it."

They began walking again and Buffy asked a question. "Were you as close to your dad?"

Spike shook his head. "No." He sighed. "I wish I had been. But he was at work half the time, and when he wasn't … I don' know … He was so successful, he just made me feel inferior around him. I don't think he meant to, but I felt it anyway. He wasn' great at dishing out compliments. In those days, it wasn' the done thing for men to show emotion." Spike shrugged. "So I never really felt he cared about me the way my mum did. Maybe he did, I don' know; guess I never will now."

"How did he die?" Buffy asked in a soft voice.

"Earthquake."

"In _London?_"

He nodded. "Or explosion. No one was entirely sure what happened. Some think one caused the other. Either way, there was a lot of damage. It happened on the other side of the city from where we lived. I don't even know what my dad was doing there. But he never came home." He paused, and then continued in a more bitter voice. "He was the _only one_ who didn' make it out. Everyone else evacuated."

Buffy squeezed his hand gently.

"And they never found his body. Didn't have the resources to dig deep enough or something. Now a bloody block of flats has been dumped on top of his grave. I saw it advertised on the Internet."

"I'm sorry."

They came to the cemetery, and left the pavement to cut through to Spike's crypt. Silence had fallen again. Buffy realised she had learned more about Spike in the last few hours than she had in all the time she had known him. For some reason it unnerved her – she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Well – here we are," Spike spoke as they stopped outside. "Home sweet home."

There was an awkward pause.

"Do you want me to stay awhile?" Buffy finally asked.

"Yes, please," he answered without hesitation.

She followed him inside and sat down on the floor against the wall. She wasn't sure what time it was – it had to be nearly daylight. Spike dropped his coat onto the floor and after a moment's thought spread it out. "You can have that if you want. The floor's pretty cold."

"I would never have guessed." Buffy moved onto it, and Spike slid down the wall next to her. They both fell quiet again, and after a few minutes Buffy slipped her hand into Spike's and squeezed it gently. She knew there really wasn't much more she could say to help his pain – the only thing she could really do was be there for him. He smiled sadly and closed his eyes, his head slowly coming to rest on her shoulder.

Buffy had intended to rest her eyes for only a minute, but when she opened them, it was dark again and Spike was gone. She had slid down the wall onto the floor and sat up quickly, spotting him sitting in the entrance.

"Oh, there you are."

He looked back at her and smiled. "You didn' have to stay all day."

"I know. Guess I fell asleep." Buffy stifled a yawn and scrambled over to join him. "Stupid question, but … are you okay?"

Spike sighed. "I don't know. It's … a relief, I suppose, but at the same time …"

"It hurts," Buffy supplied.

He nodded.

"It'll get better with time, Spike. I know."

"Yeah." He paused. "Buffy … thanks."

"For what?"

"Helping me through it," he said quietly. "I couldn' have done it without you there."

She smiled and put an arm around his shoulders. "You're welcome."

Spike looked up at the stars. "I've decided … I'm goin' to go."

"What?"

"Back to London, I mean. I want to find … her – I mean, where she's buried." He swallowed. "There should be a – a body now, right?"

"I should think so, yes. And I think it's a good idea."

"I just need some time … Need to say goodbye properly," he murmured.

Buffy nodded.

"I'd offer to come with you, but I'm guessing this is something you need to do on your own. Is it?"

"Yeah … but the offer's appreciated."

"When are you going to leave?"

He shrugged. "End of this conversation?"

"I'll see you off if you want," Buffy offered.

Spike squeezed her hand. Something, they both realised, had changed between them. It was subtle, but it was definitely there.

"Thanks," he whispered.

**TBC …**


	5. What a Choice

**Chapter Four: What a Choice**

The bell over the door of the Magic Box jangled as Buffy entered. Giles, Anya, Tara and Willow all glanced up from what they were doing.

"Buffy!" Anya greeted her enthusiastically. "It's great to have you back. When were you?"

"That's subtle," Tara said.

"Did you bring us back a memento of your travels in time?" Anya continued. The others ignored her.

"Hey, Buffy." Willow hurried over and hugged her tightly. "We were really worried. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Buffy hugged her back and looked around the shop. There were books piled on every surface. "Wow, someone's deep in Research Mode."

"Where's Spike?" Giles asked. Buffy, thumbing through the nearest book, was only half-listening and responded with a vague "Hm?"

"_Buffy_."

"Huh? Sorry," she said. "What's all this stuff on Hellmouths for?"

Giles sighed and polished his glasses. "It seems we have a very big problem."

"Understatement of the century," Anya muttered.

"Well," Willow said, "the basic upshot is there's a nineteenth-century sorcerer running around with the entire power of a Hellmouth controlling him."

Buffy blinked at her. "Come again?"

"Look, he's in here." Willow turned to a bookmarked page of the tome she was holding and handed it to Buffy. "There."

"English Hellmouth … 1867 …" Buffy murmured key words under her breath as she read the passage. "Is this connected to where Spike and I went?"

"According to Angel," Giles said carefully, "you two were sent through the portal to prepare you for what's coming."

"He couldn't have been a little more cryptic about it?" Buffy quipped. "Wait – nineteenth-century sorcerer?"

"Yes," Tara said, "Why?"

"Just … Spike and I were in the nineteenth century. Although we didn't see any likely candidates." Buffy paused. "Hang on – this guy was buried in 1867; Spike and I were in 1880, so he'd have already been dormant. How does that relate?"

"Don't ask us, Buffy." Giles fixed her with a penetrating stare. "You were there, not us. What happened when you went back in time?"

Buffy looked around at her friends, who were all staring at her expectantly.

"It was Spike's past," she said shortly. "He was sent back into his old body and I was incorporeal. I don't understand what that has to do with a human Hellmouth."

"Well, maybe there's something Spike knows that could be useful," Giles said. "Where _is_ he, Buffy?"

"On a boat on his way over to England," Buffy replied.

"What!" Giles exclaimed. "Spike's gone? _Now?_"

"Yeah," Buffy said, confused. "Why's it matter?"

"Because we need him here, is why," Tara spoke up. "Some Seers have said that you and Spike are supposed to face this thing together."

Buffy groaned. "Well then, Hellmouth Man is gonna have to wait a while to be … What exactly _is_ the plan of action? I mean, he's human, right?"

Giles nodded gravely. "Yes, unfortunately, there does not seem to be a way to remove the Hellmouth from him. In order to save innocents' lives -"

"We have to kill an innocent man." Willow sounded justifiably bitter.

"And for some reason, Spike needs to be here for it," Giles said. "We can't wait until it's convenient for Spike to come back. You have to contact him and tell him to come -"

"I will _not_ tell Spike to come back," Buffy snapped, surprising even herself. "He needs this time alone and has been waiting for it for decades. It's not a question of _convenience_."

"What exactly is he doing in England?" Willow asked.

Buffy shook her head. "It's his business." She could tell everyone was annoyed now. It was not a pleasant feeling. "Look, forget Spike for a moment. Talk me through this human Hellmouth thing again."

"This man was dormant for over a century," Giles explained. "He absorbed the English Hellmouth's power – Hellmouths are portals, but they're made up of an immense amount of power. The power somehow ended up inside the sorcerer when he tried to close the Hellmouth. The power's in him, but the portal itself is gone. I imagine the old location was filled in years ago."

Buffy considered. "Where in England?"

"Pardon?" Giles said.

"You only said it was in England. You didn't say which part."

"London," said Tara. "Why?"

"Another coincidence," Buffy murmured, staring blankly at the book in front of her. After a moment, she frowned and leaned in closer to the book to read the smaller print. "Wait a minute, I know that name …"

"William Eric Pratt? Yeah, that's his name," Willow said.

"The name of the guy who absorbed the Hellmouth?" Buffy asked to confirm.

"Yes," Willow said. "I know it makes it more personal, knowing his name. Makes it harder to think about -" She broke off.

Buffy zoned out. It had to be one of Spike's relatives; there was no other possibility. Things were falling into place – the reason she and Spike had been sent back to that particular night.

But which relative?

The dates meant Spike must have been around his teens when the Hellmouth opened. Something Spike had said came back to her. "_Earthquake … No one was entirely sure what happened … Everyone else evacuated … And they never found his body …_"

His father. It had to be. Spike's father was the Hellmouth magician.

"He was a hero," Buffy said to herself. "And they never knew it."

Unable to sit any longer, she stood and began to pace. Everything fit. Buffy groaned and put her head in her hands.

_Hey, Spike, guess what?_ Her own voice spoke inside her head. _Yeah, the good news is, your dad's alive. The bad news is, the Seers want you to kill him just like you killed your mom._

"Buffy, are you okay?" Willow's voice sounded as if from afar.

"Screw it!" Buffy burst out suddenly, pushing a shelf over in anger. Spike had been through too much. She had watched him kill his own mother, and she would die before she let him go through that all over again.

"Buffy!" Giles exclaimed. "What is it?"

She took several deep breaths, attempting to get her temper under control. "I'm okay." She turned to face her friends, all of whom were watching her in concern. "Giles, are you sure there is _absolutely no way_ to remove the Hellmouth from him?"

"Well, Willow found a spell to transfer power," Giles said, "but there are several problems with it -"

"Could you adapt it?" Buffy suggested, rounding on Willow. "Combine it with another spell or something?"

"We-ell, I could try." Willow sounded doubtful.

"Make it happen," Buffy commanded. "Where exactly is he now?"

"He'll be in Sunnydale soon," Anya spoke from the television. "Probably within the hour."

"Then we'll be ready for him." Buffy paused. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear: we are _not_ killing him. We just have to distract him enough to keep him from hurting any innocents."

* * *

The distraction technique was not working very well.

The gang had arrived at the scene armed, much against Buffy's wishes. However, it did no good anyway. William Pratt Sr. was able to disarm them from twenty feet away with a bolt of energy.

Luckily, the area had mostly evacuated. After getting thrown back for the fifth time, Buffy decided a new tactic was needed.

"Stop looking so aggressive, guys," she called to them. "Fall back a bit. Maybe I can talk to him."

"Buffy, you're mad."

She ignored Anya's statement and drew forward slowly. Pratt Sr. was busy sending a large building toppling to the ground, and ignored her. A couple of feet away, Buffy stopped.

"William?" she asked gently.

He whirled around. For a moment, she saw a flash of real humanity in his eyes. "William," he whispered. "Anne. Where are they?"

He was asking for Spike and his wife. Buffy's heart broke for him. "They're not here right now," she tried in a soothing tone. "But Sp – I mean, William won't be gone for long, he'll be back soon."

Pratt's eyes darkened to pure black, and the next moment Buffy found herself flying backwards ten feet again. Obviously, he hadn't liked her answer. Buffy was getting to her feet again when there was the sound of a shot.

"_Giles!_" she yelled at her Watcher as Pratt crumpled to the ground. "I _said_, we're not ki -"

"It was a tranquiliser dart."

"Oh."

She returned to the man's side. Unconscious, he looked like any other human being. Buffy wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"He has no idea what's happened to him," she murmured. "He just wants to find his family."

* * *

_Anne Geraldine Pratt  
1825-1880_

Spike knelt down by his mother's grave. There was nothing special on it; nothing like "beloved mother" or ornate decorations that reflected her personality in life. Once Spike had gone, there was nobody who cared enough for that.

"I brought you some lilies, Mother," he murmured, placing them reverently on the overgrown grass by the crooked headstone. "I know it's over a century overdue, but do you think you could forgive me?"

His only reply was a slight gust of wind and a few drops of rain. He was grateful for the rain – it hid the tears on his face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you, Mum. I hope you know that." He had to stop for a moment; the urge to start bawling like a baby again was almost overwhelming.

Before he could continue his outburst, a familiar voice behind him interrupted. "I do."

**TBC …**


	6. Sod Consequences

**Chapter Five: Sod Consequences  
**  
"M-Mother?"

Seeing Anne alive in the past was nothing compared to seeing her now. Spike squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again to make sure he wasn't dreaming. She was still dressed in her nightclothes but, despite the translucency, looked much healthier than when he had last seen her.

"Yes, darling, I'm here." She reached out a hand, which paused centimetres from his cheek. Spike felt as if a golf ball had lodged itself in his throat.

"You're glowing," he said, choking back tears.

She chuckled. "Ghosts tend to do that."

"You – are you – I mean -"

"Why don't you just let me explain rather than trying to work out what you want to ask?" Anne said. He nodded. "I know what you did – both times," she added.

Unable to meet her eye, Spike hung his head. She brought her hand up to his cheek and it felt something like touching water. Anne made him look at her. "It's all right, sweetheart. I understand why you did it and I thank you for it."

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, as the tears finally fell unchecked.

"Don't be. I just knew you needed to know that I'm at peace now, William. Or is it Spike?" she said with a slight smile.

"I'll always be William to you, Mother," Spike said, wiping his eyes furiously.

"I know. And you know, I think perhaps that nice Buffy girl has seen it too."

Spike smiled slightly through the tears. "You know about Buffy?"

"Oh, I peek," Anne said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But never during a private moment. Or when you're – I mean, when you were – feeding."

"You must be so ashamed of me."

"On the contrary, William. Despite everything, you never completely lost your humanity and when you found something good enough to fight for, you fought and fought. You're a good man, and I couldn't be prouder to call you my son."

Spike couldn't speak.

"I am sure that, sooner or later, you will be rewarded. And I have a feeling that it will involve Miss Summers." Anne smiled warmly at Spike. "Don't give up on her. She feels more for you than you think. Perhaps even more than she thinks. In time, you will both realise that."

He nodded. "Thanks, Mum."

"Oh, William. I hate to leave you, but …" Spike suddenly realised she was beginning to fade slowly.

"You have to go?"

She nodded. "I'm only allowed a short time here. But I only have one last thing to say."

"What's that?"

"I love you." Anne placed a gentle kiss on Spike's cheek. For a moment, he just closed his eyes and let the words sink in. Words he had needed badly to hear.

"Give – give my love to Dad, won't you?" he whispered, opening his eyes again.

A strange look came over his mother's face. "William …"

"What?"

"About your father …"

* * *

Giles paced up and down the Magic Box. "I keep telling you, Buffy, we can't keep him locked up forever. He could wake up any minute and once he does, we won't be able to stop him from breaking free."

"And we can't keep tranquilising him," Anya said.

"Don't you think I know that?" Buffy said, a frown marring her features. "Ow." She pressed a pack of ice to the gash on her forehead and leaned forward to get a better view of Willow, who was writing furiously into a notebook. "How's that adaption coming?"

"It's not." Willow scrunched up a page of notes and flung them at the wall. "I just keep trying combinations and can't come up with anything powerful enough."

"You will," Buffy assured her. "I have faith in you."

"Don't want to ask the dumb question," Tara said, "but even if we manage to remove the Hellmouth from him, where exactly are we going to put it?"

It had been a circular argument, going round so many times Buffy was feeling dizzy. "I don't know. We're just going to have to find some way to destroy it. How many times do we have to go through this, people?"

The phone rang. Buffy picked it up.

"If it's Spike, tell him we need him here," Giles said. "Spell or no spell, the Seers said he needed to be here for a reason."

"Buffy?"

It was Spike. Buffy thought quickly.

"Oh, hey, Dawn. How's L.A.?"

There was a pause at the other end. "Er, Buffy? It's Spike here."

"I know. Give Xander and Angel both a kick from me."

"You can't talk?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh. Look, Buffy, I need your help."

"With what?"

"My dad's alive."

How on _earth_ did he know that? Buffy wondered. As if he could read her mind, he added, "I saw my mum – as a ghost, I mean. She told me my dad never died that night. He's still out there somehow. I don't know how and I don't care. I just want to find him."

"Well," Buffy said slowly, "I'm sorry that you're feeling homesick, Dawn, but you can't come back yet. We're still working out part of our plan of action and it's best you're not around."

"Buffy, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, Dawn, and I hear you loud and clear. There's just nothing I can do to help at the moment. Why don't you just try to relax and enjoy yourself a bit, you know, like a holiday."

"All right, Buffy, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"No, you're hiding something from me. What is it?"

"I'll be fine, Dawn, you're fussing over nothing."

At that moment, the receiver was plucked neatly out of her hand. "_Giles!_"

"Hello, Spike," he said into it. "Now would be a good time for you to return because the Big Bad we have knocked out in the back room can only be beaten if you're here. See you soon." Giles hung up.

Buffy folded her arms and glared at him. "How did you know?"

"You said 'Dawn' too many times, it's unnatural," he said.

"You also had that look on your face," Anya said.

"What look?"

"The one you've had on your face every time Spike's name has been brought up recently." The others all stared at her. "What, I'm the only one that noticed?"

"I think the more pertinent question is why were you trying to keep Spike away," Giles said, glaring at his Slayer.

"Because, maybe I see that he's more than just something to help us kill the bad guys," Buffy shot back. "He has feelings too."

Giles raised his eyebrows, Willow smiled, and Anya wolf-whistled. Buffy suddenly realised what she had said and how it must have sounded. "I didn't – I mean -"

"Don't worry, Buffy, we all know what you meant," Anya said with a smirk on her face. "And about time too. Now, maybe we could get back to our plan of action?"

* * *

For the first time, Spike hadn't wanted to leave his home country. When he had been turned, he had just wanted to get away and make a fresh start to forget about his human life; but now, on his way back to Sunnydale, he wished he'd had some more time to spend there. But there was no way he was letting Buffy face this whatever-it-was alone, no matter how hard she tried to convince him otherwise.

Plus, of course, once this particular Big Bad was dusted, she could help him find out what happened to his father. Right now, he would just take the attitude that he had been gone over a century – a couple more days couldn't hurt.

Once in Sunnydale, Spike headed straight for the Magic Box. It was dark inside, and he paused, but jumped a moment later as there was a small explosion inside.

Spike kicked the door open and slammed on the lights. "What the hell's goin' on?"

Willow sat alone in the middle of the shop, surrounded by untidy stacks of books, candles and witchcraft ingredients, and choking on a cloud of black smoke. Spike threw the windows open and waved his arms to clear it. "Better, Red?"

"No." She groaned and rested her head on the table. "This is useless. I'm never gonna save him."

"What you tryin' to do?"

Willow pushed one of the books towards him. "Some guy a century ago tried to close the English Hellmouth, but instead absorbed its power and he's been dormant all this time. Now he's awake and on the rampage because it's controlling him rather than the other way around, and I've been trying to find a way to remove the power from him but I can't and now we have to kill him!" She paused for a deep breath, only to start coughing on the remains of the smoke again. Spike banged her on the back. "Thanks."

"This the guy that Giles said you lot had knocked out in the back room?"

"Yeah, he escaped. They've gone after him now. I've been trying to do spell after spell but they all just either go _phut_ or blow up in my face or do nothing at all."

"Probably because you don't have any spell powerful enough."

"Yeah, that's what Giles said. I had to try, though. Even combined different spells together. Nothing's working."

"What about this one? Power transference -"

"Not strong enough. Plus there's got to be a link -"

"What kind of link?"

Willow paused. "I don't know. I guess the same kind for any spell, like a blood link, or magic link -"

"Blood link?"

"If you're a relative, I guess it would work."

"Do you have a name for this guy?"

Willow passed the correct book to him. "It's there. I don't see what good it would do, though, he lived like a hundred years ago." She caught Spike's eye. "Oh."

"I don't believe it," Spike muttered, staring at the name on the page. "I don' bloody believe it."

"He's _not_ a relation of yours, is he? It would be a bit of a coincidence if he was -"

"Get that power transference spell, Red. We're going on a field trip."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to make this spell work."

"Spike," Willow said, "if we did the spell, the Hellmouth would go into one of us. There's always consequences to this kind of thing."

He hesitated. But only for a second. "Sod consequences. I'm saving my father. Are you with me?"

**TBC …**


	7. Blood to Blood

**Chapter Six: Blood to Blood**

"This is a bad idea," Willow said for the thousandth time. "This idea is so bad I don't know why I'm not driving a stake through it right now."

"Look, I agree it's risky, but what choice do we really have?" Spike said, striding along so fast that Willow was half-running to keep up. "Hellmouths give off energy that gives spells and such a little kick-start. Hopefully sitting bang on top the Sunnydale one will be enough to make it work."

"If we use another Hellmouth we could end up absorbing that as well, and then we would have two Hellmouthed people running amok – or one person with a double Hellmouth running amok. I've seen what one Hellmouth can do; I really don't feel like fighting two. Buffy's going to kill me for letting you do this."

"Don't worry, I'll take any blame she has to throw around. Oh, bugger." Spike stopped dead and Willow accidentally ran into him. "When did they start re-building the school?"

* * *

He had been ready for them.

When Anya and Tara had tried to distract Pratt Sr., he'd turned round to see Giles creeping up behind him and sent a lightning-bolt in his direction that melted the tranquiliser gun into a puddle.

Buffy ripped a post out of the car park floor, thinking perhaps she could clonk him on the head with it while he was distracted, but he sent her flying again. The post landed on her own head, leaving her dazed for a minute.

_Come on, Will_, she thought in desperation. It wouldn't be long until they had no choice left.

* * *

"Ready?" Spike said.

Willow just glared at him.

"I'll take that as a yes. What first?"

She sighed, resigned. "All right. Let's do this." She handed him a knife and pointed to the instructions in the book laid before him.

Spike barely winced as he cut shallow slits down his arms, his blood trickling down them and dripping onto the floor of the new Principal's office. "Blood to blood," he murmured, "bring me the power."

Willow, grimacing as she did so, touched Spike's arms to get his blood on her hands and then grasped his hands as she said the appropriate Latin words three times. On the third, rather than giving a small explosion, there was a great rumbling and they both gasped.

* * *

"Buffy, we've got to get out of here!" Giles yelled from several feet away.

She knew he was right. They were on the ground floor of a multi-storey car park, and Pratt had done so much damage it looked as if the other five floors were going to come down on them any second.

He didn't seem to realise this, and the last thing Buffy wanted to do was leave Spike's father to die.

Reasoning with him hadn't worked. Force had not worked. Buffy was on the point of screaming in frustration when a great rumbling froze everyone to the spot, even Pratt.

A sizzling bolt of light engulfed him and he screamed. The others all stared. It looked as if something was being dragged out of him and up through the roof out of their sight.

"Willow," Buffy whispered. "_Yes!_ She did it!"

The light finally faded and Pratt dropped to his knees. Buffy rushed over. He was clutching his head as if he had a migraine the size of California.

"Are you all right?" she said gently.

He looked up, but there was more confusion in his eyes than pain. "I don't know – I – what's going on? Where am I? Who are you?"

Buffy knelt down in front of him. "I'm a friend of your son's – of William."

His eyes widened. "William – Anne – are they safe?"

"William's safe," Buffy promised. "You'll see him soon."

The relief that spread over his face was short-lived.

"What about my wife?"

A lump arose in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pratt. She's dead."

He buried his face in his hands again. Before Buffy could find the words to comfort him, a hand closed around her upper arm and pulled her aside.

"What's happened to the Hellmouth?" Giles said.

"I don't know and I don't care. All I know is that he's clean. Look at him, Giles."

"Why did you tell him his son was safe?"

"Because, his son is -" Buffy stopped, and altered her sentence. "Over there, sporting a Hellmouth."

Giles, Anya and Tara whirled around. Buffy was frozen to the spot.

Spike had appeared in a bolt of lightning. A shiver ran down Buffy's spine. He was engulfed in the Hellmouth energy as his father had been, and his eyes were pure black.

_Spike, what have you done?_

Behind Buffy, Pratt had shakily stood and gasped as he laid eyes on his son. Spike ignored him at first, raising a hand to stare at the energy crackling around it. For a moment, Buffy saw his eyes change to normal, before they darkened again.

_He's fighting it_, she realised. Maybe all was not lost.

"Spike?" She dared take a step forwards. Giles made to grab her arm but she moved out of his reach. "Spike, it's me. It's Buffy."

Giles, Anya and Tara seemed to be having a hushed argument about what to do now. Buffy blocked their voices out. Spike noticed her, and his eyes flashed normal again.

"Look who's here," she tried, gesturing towards Pratt.

"William?" Pratt whispered.

Spike's eyes flashed again, for longer this time. For that moment, the look on his face was of shock. But when his eyes darkened, so did his expression. With one hand, he sent his father flying backwards into the others. "Good enough for you now am I, Daddy?" he practically snarled.

Buffy had forgotten about those unresolved issues Spike had mentioned earlier. _Better move to Plan B_.

She drew nearer still. "Spike, look at me."

He did so, still out of black eyes. Buffy didn't flinch or draw back; instead, she grew slowly closer.

"You won't hurt me, Spike."

The energy gently grazed her, but Spike seemed to be listening and wasn't attacking.

"Look in my eyes." He did so. "I'm not afraid of you. I know you don't want to hurt me. You love me."

She stepped right up to him and hesitated. "And I - I love you too."

This time, his eyes stayed normal, although she could see he was still wrestling to gain control.

"You don't want to hurt me," she repeated. "Think about what you _do_ want, Spike."

Buffy and the others jumped, as Spike let out a gasp and fell to his knees. The lightning-like energy looked almost as if it was electrocuting him. Before Buffy could otherwise react, it subsided completely. No crackling at all. Just Spike, gasping on the ground.

He looked up. As he met Buffy's eyes, she knew immediately that he was in total control.

"What happened?" he whispered.

"I don't know." Buffy grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet. Turning, she saw the others hovering warily, unsure what to do or say. Pratt was leaning on Giles with one arm over his shoulder, and still staring at Spike as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

Anya spoke first. "We've gotta go. Now."

They ran, the car park coming down around them. Once out of harm's way, there was complete and total silence for several minutes. Until Spike finally said in disbelief, "D-Dad?"

Pratt seemed to be searching for the words. Eventually, the question that came out of his mouth was, "What on earth have you done to your hair?"

* * *

Spike couldn't stop pacing, his face anxious. Nobody had spoken since they'd arrived at the hospital. Buffy and Tara had already been treated for various minor bumps and bruises, and now they were all waiting for news to come of Pratt.

"He'll be okay," Buffy said, desperate to try and make him feel better.

"My father absorbed a Hellmouth, lay underground for a sodding century, destroyed half of Sunnydale, was thrown twenty feet by said Hellmouth, and then nearly had a bloody car park fall down on his head." Spike glared at her. "And you expect him to be okay after that, do you?"

"Look, I was just trying to help."

He sighed and slumped into a plastic chair. "I know. Sorry."

Willow ran into the waiting room. "Thanks goodness I've found you! Spike and I did the spell and he got the Hellmouth and then he just disappeared -" She spotted Spike. "Wait, where is it?"

"Good question," Giles said.

Willow looked around at the rest of them. "Who are you guys waiting for?"

"William Pratt. Senior," Buffy added. "He's Spike's dad."

Willow started to say that she knew that, but Spike interrupted. "Eric."

"What?"

"His name's Eric."

Buffy frowned. "Thought that was his middle name?"

"'Tis, technically. Everyone's always called him Eric, though." Spike shrugged.

At that moment, a nurse entered the waiting-room. "Excuse me … Which of you is William?"

* * *

"A vampire."

"Yeah." Spike forced himself to meet his father's eyes. Eric looked a little pale, but otherwise seemed all right. "Got turned in my twenties."

Eric rubbed his eyes wearily. "And … your mother …?"

Spike swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to tell the full truth. Instead, he said, "She had tuberculosis."

His father sighed. "This is so much to take in. I – I don't know how to handle this." Spike knew it must have taken Eric a lot to admit that. "Did she – suffer?"

"No." Spike shook his head. "She died in her sleep with me beside her."

"I should have been there," Eric murmured. "William, I'm so – so sorry for leaving you and your mother. I should have stayed -"

"No, Dad, it's all right. You saved the world for us, even if it wasn' in the way you tried to. If you had stayed, we and the rest of the world would have died over a century ago." Spike gave a wobbly smile. "I understand that."

Eric clasped Spike's shoulder. "I am just relieved that I still have you now – I never thought I would see you again." He frowned slightly. "William, are you all right? You're very cold."

"Vampire, Dad, remember? I'm cold, have no pulse, no reflection, and react badly to sunlight. And other things."

"Oh." Eric paused. "Strange, I never thought creatures of the night existed."

"Thought you were some kind of sorcerer?"

Eric raised his eyebrows. "Who told you that?"

"A book. How did you know to try and close the Hellmouth?"

"Well, I have never really been – involved, I suppose, with the supernatural world. It seems I have only experienced a small corner of it." Eric thought for a moment. "If you have no pulse or heartbeat, how exactly are you alive?"

"Well, technically, I'm not." This conversation was getting awkward.

"But then, how …"

"Dad, why don't you just don't try to understand it, okay?"

"But I – how do I know -"

"Look, just feel it for yourself." Spike held out his arm, and Eric hesitantly touched two fingers to his wrist.

"William," he said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"You said you don't _have_ a pulse."

"Yeah …"

"Then why can I feel one?"

**TBC …**

Just the epilogue now! This one turned out shorter than I planned. The next one, _This Way Comes_, will be quite a bit longer though.


	8. Epilogue: Here Comes the Sun

**Epilogue: Here Comes the Sun**

_Two Days Later_

Spike balanced the tray awkwardly on one hand and knocked on the door. "Buffy? You awake?" he asked quietly. After receiving no reply, he nudged the door open with one foot. "Buffy? Breakfast."

"Mmnm."

He grinned at the sight, setting the tray down before moving towards the bed. "Morning, sleepyhead."

Buffy emerged slowly from the bedclothes. "Did I hear someone mention breakfast?"

"You didn't forget?"

She shook her head and yawned. "No … just a bit slow waking up."

Spike pulled her curtains wide open as she rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed. The sun was not yet up. Buffy pulled her trainers on, climbed up onto the window-sill and out onto the roof. Spike passed her the tray through the window and followed her out.

The two ate their pancakes in comfortable silence as the dew evaporated and the sun slowly rose. When its first beams of light hit them, Spike closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feel on his skin.

"It's strange," he murmured.

"What is?"

"All this … everything … I've only just come back from England and I haven't really had time to think …"

"I'm sorry you rushed back -"

"No, it's okay, I was about to return anyway." Spike fell silent, his eyes still closed.

"So …" Buffy said quietly. "Do you want to talk about what happened there? You said you saw your mother …"

Spike smiled and opened his eyes. "I did. She appeared." He was quiet for a moment. "She told me she loved me … that she was proud of me."

Buffy smiled too and gently slipped her hand into his. "I told you so."

"No need to get a big head about it," Spike said thickly. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Sorry …"

"Really, Spike, there's no need to apologise. I understand totally. You don't have to hide from me."

"Thanks," he whispered.

He yawned. Buffy looked at him. "And you call me sleepyhead."

"Didn' sleep well. Still trying to get used to the sleeping at night, awake during the day thing. And I had dreams last night."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Not good ones." Spike paused. "I kept seeing faces … I don' even remember most of them …"

Buffy knew immediately what he meant.

"You were a vampire for over a century. That's a hell of a lot of victims. And suddenly you've not only got a soul, but you're one hundred percent human. It's going to hurt. And it's going to be really difficult adjusting. But you'll manage. I know you will. And you're not alone. I'm always here for you."

Spike finally met her eyes.

"Buffy," he said quietly, finally posing the question. "Back in the car park … What you said to stop me …" The atmosphere changed slightly. "… Did you really mean it? Or were you just saying anything to talk me down?"

Buffy's expression softened. "No, I wasn't. That would be way over the line." She squeezed his hand affectionately. "I don't think I even realised till then, you know. I mean, when you were gone and I found out about your dad – I found I was willing to do anything to keep you from going through – that – again. And then I started to wonder why …" She smiled. "If I say I love you, it's because I mean it."

"You – you do?"

"Yes, I do. I love you, Spike."

Spike didn't think it was possible to feel any happier. In fact, he thought his newly-beating heart might burst with joy as Buffy leaned across and kissed him.

* * *

The other members of the household didn't start waking for another couple of hours, by which time Spike had left for the hospital and Buffy had tidied the kitchen from the last two days and begun making pancakes for everyone else. Giles was the first up.

"Morning," he said sleepily, emerging from the couch.

"Morning, Giles. Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Buffy poured him a mug and poured herself a third. "You look as tired as I feel."

"I'm not surprised, it's been quite a week."

"Wow, has it only been a week?" Buffy paused, before taking a gulp of her coffee and turning back to the pancakes. "Seems like forever." She yawned. "Anyway, it's not just that. Spike wasn't the only one to have a rough night."

"Where is Spike?" Giles asked, looking around at the empty camp bed.

"Hospital with his dad."

"Ah." He looked back at her. "You had a rough night as well then?"

Buffy nodded and started dishing up Giles' pancakes. "Had a weird dream – well, more like a nightmare."

"What happened?"

She hesitated, glancing around the kitchen. "I was Spike, and I was on this game show, where if I lost, someone I loved died – and I had to choose which one." Buffy shuddered. "It was horrible. I was trapped, and I could feel everything Spike felt – his despair, his pain, his fear – he was terror-stricken."

"It was only a dream," Giles said gently. "Have you shared it with Spike?"

"No, and I'm not going to. Last thing he needs right now. He's already having dreams about all his past victims – he doesn't need this on top of that."

"I have to say, he seems to be coping extremely well under the circumstances."

"You don't know the half of it," Buffy murmured. "I think it hasn't all sunk in yet – so much happened so fast, his mind hasn't had the chance to process it all."

"Even so, to be suddenly human _and_ realise your father is alive must be a lot to deal with."

"Seems like no-one else is getting up yet." Buffy turned the heat off. "Talking of Eric, how's he doing? You saw him last night, right?"

Giles suddenly noticed the pancakes in front of him and picked up the syrup. "He'll be out of hospital tomorrow."

"I meant, emotionally."

"I'm not sure. You would have to ask Spike that."

Buffy considered. "I guess they must be mourning together. Spike's mom," she clarified at Giles' blank face. "I mean, Eric's only just lost her, and Spike never really had the chance to grieve."

Silence fell for a moment. Giles finally broke it. "I know now is not the best time, for all the reasons we've already mentioned, but I think you and I need to discuss the Hellmouth.  
These are delicious, by the way."

"Thanks." She sat down. "What about it?"

"It's still inside Spike, Buffy. Goodness knows what he could be capable of -"

"Giles, a) Spike's human now, and b) he's controlling it. Eric couldn't handle the Hellmouth because he was only human, but Spike's been controlling his own inner demon for the last year or so."

"With the help of the chip, which the Hellmouth can apparently override."

"He can handle it."

"Maybe for now, but all that power in one person, Buffy? I appreciate the fact that Spike _is_ human now, but to have that darkness inside him scares me."

"I trust him, Giles. Just give him a chance. Besides, what would we do with a spare Hellmouth? Put it back inside Eric, so he goes on the rampage again? Or add it to the one under the school, so we have twice as much work on our hands and Sunnydale is twice as dangerous? Spike can handle it, I know he can."

"I'm still worried. I'm not dropping this. And I don't think we should give up researching the subject."

"You know what, Giles? Do what you want. Carry on researching if you must. Me, I'm going to help Spike adjust to being human. Which is much more important, don't you think?" Buffy didn't wait for an answer. She stood and left the room.

She shouldn't have been surprised that Giles wasn't happy with the situation. It was going to be almost as difficult for the rest of them to adjust to Spike being human. But Buffy felt more positive than she had felt in a long time, and she knew Spike did too, despite the downsides.

They would get there. She would make sure that the others accepted Spike as he was now. After all, he was now definitely one of the family.

**The End**

* * *

**Teaser of Foreshadow II: This Way Comes**

"So," Spike said with a grin, "When do you think we should tell them?"

"Not just yet," Buffy said, kissing him. "I'd like Dawn to know first." A thought suddenly struck her. "Dawn!"

"What about her?"

"She and Xander are still in L.A, no-one's told them it's safe to come home!"

"You'd better phone them then."

"Yeah." Buffy paused. "… Maybe later. Kiss me again …"

**Author's note:** I'm taking a little break from this series to try and catch up with some of my HP fics, as well as continue with my other Buffy WIPs. So the second in the series may not be out for a little while. Keep an eye on my author page or subscribe. I know this was rather short, but This Way Comes will be quite a bit longer. I may or may not post a companion fic called Into the Fire detailing Dawn's experiences in LA. I don't have a lot of inspiration for it at the moment, though. Keep an eye out for it. Thank you all for reading, and lots of thanks to people who reviewed!


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